


Sapere Aude

by blackidyll



Series: Sic Parvis Magna [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Magic, M/M, Patronus, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 12:58:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15510402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackidyll/pseuds/blackidyll
Summary: It's not officially Q's caster's room yet, but that’s only a matter of time. Q's file in the Unspeakables achieves is already tied closed with silver string, signifying his status as a trusted consultant; when he officially takes his position, the Unspeakables seal masters will upgrade the binding to gold, the same as all other Unspeakables personnel, offering a higher level of secrecy. One day, James strongly suspects, Q might even gain the platinum-binding of a section leader.But first, there's just one last requirement to fulfill: casting a corporeal Patronus.(A Harry Potter!AU that follows the canon events of the HP books, but with no formal appearances of the HP cast. Sequel toSic Parvis Magna).





	Sapere Aude

**Author's Note:**

> *runs in on the last day of the 007 Fest and throws fic at your feet* 
> 
> This story has been lurking on my writing list for like three years (alkgj;aljg I can't believe it's been that long) but hey, it's Harry Potter's birthday, what better day to finish and post this HP!AU fic?
> 
> This fic can be read standalone, but will probably make much more sense if you read [Sic Parvis Magna](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4977079) first. This is set about a year after the events of that fic.

James finds Q lying on the floor of the caster's room like the needle of a compass ever pointed north, the circle of runes around him glowing softly. The tip of Q's wand sways gently, Q holding a passive spell but not activating it, and despite the reflection of light glinting off Q's glasses, James knows that he's concentrating on the design etched into ceiling almost to the exclusion of all else.

James knows better than to step over the threshold without permission – Q might be distracted, but his wards are active and primed to activate at any disturbance. It may not be a blood spell, and the traps woven into the protective spells aren't lethal, but James was responsible for interrogating the dark witch that stumbled across Q's designated station in Muggle London, and he'd had to reverse the simultaneous Incoherence and Delusion curses, ones that trapped the witch in an illusion of her worst nightmare. James has no desire to experience the spells’ effects himself.

"If you unravel the spell-bindings cloaking this room in protection and privacy, the seal masters will be quite displeased with you," James says.

Q startles, but he flicks his wand to the side instinctively, dispelling the energy before the passive spell can collapse on itself. The protective runes on the floor fade back to normalcy, throwing the room into shadow, and there’s a whisper of movement as Q sits up.  

“One day, I’m going to hex you by accident, thinking you’re an actual intruder.”

James grins into the darkness. “You’re far too observant for that. You’ll hex me on purpose.”

“And along the same line, I would only ever break the seal masters’ bindings on purpose.” Q sighs, and flicks his wand once, the end of it coalescing to life with a silent _Lumos_ spell. “Besides, there are far too many layers to the seals for me to take them down at once. They’re quite safe from me, I assure you. You can come into the room,” Q adds, his eyes sliding towards James still standing in the door frame.

Permission granted, James steps into the room, the wards whispering against his skin as they absorb him into their protection. He glances at the darkened candleholders lining the walls and draws out a lighter from his pocket – a purely Muggle version, lighter fluid and flint encased in a simple silver case – and begins systematically lighting the candles.

“How would you take down the seal system, if you had to?” James asks, curious. He has his own methods for dealing with protection seals – overwhelming the bindings with raw power, mostly – but they tend to be rather conspicuous, and wouldn’t work on something as intricate and large as, say, the ones cloaking the Unspeakables’s headquarters.

Q narrows his eyes, but it’s hardly the first time James has asked Q to unravel the components of a spell for him. He holds still for a long heartbeat, as if pondering whether to humour James or not, but finally climbs to his feet. His hair is entirely ruffled from lying on the floor, but he still looks put together, his shirt sleeves folded neatly to his elbows, and he picks up his – Muggle-styled wizarding robes? Wizarding robes transfigured into a parka? – from the floor, swinging the jacket around his shoulders, wearing it loose like a cloak.

"The charms are cast by numerous casters but they are from the same family of seals," Q says, tipping his head skywards, "and so they all contain the same common base. Because of this, the spells synergize in a way that you rarely get with most spell sequences. As a whole, the charms overlay each other like the many layers of an onion; it starts with one central spell, the focus, and each subsequent seal master layers their individual enchantments over it."

"Onions are dreadfully hard to peel,” James says. “It tends to result in tears, I hear.”

There's a gleam behind Q's eyes, firelight and the steady glow from the _Lumos_ spell turning his irises luminous.  

"If I want to take the spell network down, I'd first have to figure out what base the seals use, as well as the key to unlock it. Then I'll have to strip the spells layer by layer, but because the charms are cast by different seal masters, they'll all have their subtle quirks and subkeys. Like any code, however, it's possible to break them, and synchronized pairs would work best - a seal master, spellsmith or magical theorist, to work out the keys, and a battle speed-speller to cast the unlocking spells. I'd add in a third caster, however—” a small, secretive smile blooms over Q's lips, the visceral pleasure of unravelling a complex problem "—to put up our own layer of seals as the pair team breaks it down. So the spell network looks whole and untampered to the outside eye, simply replaced with friendly seals tuned to our team."

"So, not a job for an Indeterminate," James observes. "We're supposed to work as solo operatives, after all."

"Out in the field, yes, but you're hardly going at it alone anymore, are you?" Q says, and his voice is sincere, completely unaffected. "After all, you now have me."

He lets the _Lumos_ spell fade as James comes upon the last unlit candle. It would be so much easier to light them with a spell – James could do it in a heartbeat, wandless – but spellrooms become possessive, soaking up energy and tuning toward their chosen spellcaster. Q’s little makeshift spellroom in his Muggle London flat did so, and James has no doubt this one, an Unspeakables construction steeped in raw power, would wind around Q like a cat around its owner’s ankles if it had the chance.  

It's not officially Q's caster's room yet, but that’s only a matter of time. Q's file in the Unspeakables achieves is already tied closed with silver string, signifying his status as a trusted consultant; when he officially takes his position, the Unspeakables seal masters will upgrade the binding to gold, the same as all other Unspeakables personnel, offering a higher level of secrecy. One day, James strongly suspects, Q might even gain the platinum-binding of a section leader.

But titles and rank mean nothing to semi-sentient spellrooms. Fire is kinetic, full of energy, and could easily be misconstrued as offensive magic. Forget Q’s wards – James doesn’t want to find out what a possessive spellroom would do to anyone it believed posed a threat to its chosen master.

James lights the final candle and snaps the lighter shut before turning to meet Q’s gaze.

“Yes,” he says. “We do indeed have you.”

\---

(The latest update to Q's file names his position as a spellsmith.

Closely hidden asset that Q is even before his official initiation into the Unspeakables, the news still generates little ripples across the organization rumour mill. The position itself isn't the crux of the furore, since the Unspeakables claims many of the elite and specialists who do not or cannot conform to the other Ministry departments. Instead, it is the combination of the position together with Q's age and his background - the lack thereof - that sets whispers aflame.

It is quite prestigious, after all, to earn the title of spellsmith, but James knows well the dangers associated with it. Every caster knows how to modify spells to some extent - a tweak for size and colour when Transfiguring, for example, or an adjustment for power and scale when it comes to Charms - but spellsmiths who can construct unique spells from the ground up are rare.

Rare, because new untethered spells are unstable and extremely volatile, and the more powerful the spell, the less likely the caster would be to survive the creation of it.

It's not the danger involved that makes the title sit somewhat unevenly on Q's shoulders. Q has run headlong into peril for years before he ever came to the Unspeakables's attention, and James knows better than to force Q to be anything less than what he truly is.

Perhaps that's the rub of it - Q might be a spellsmith, but that's not all he is.

"Spellweaver," _Quattuor_ says when the rumours filter up to the Indeterminates, because like James, she can attribute at least one half of her parentage to one of the lesser but still noble Wizarding families in Europe, and unlike James, she occasionally embraces the lessons and traditions that come with that heritage. 

It's an old Wizarding term, hailing from the days when language contained more intricacies and hence more weight, giving a poetic turn to the title of the vocation. And as practical as James prefers to be, he nonetheless finds himself agreeing with _Quattuor_.

Q doesn't just create - he weaves the most improbable and seemingly incompatible components together into something new and whole and beautiful, and he does it with an ease that belies how difficult the task is. It's been less than a year since Q stepped through the doors that hid the Unspeakable headquarters from the world, and yet he has already turned the research department upside down.

Spellweaver. _Quattuor_ reads the concurrence from James's body language, and flicks her wand, casting under her breath. The Patronus shrike flits away, likely on route to Decem back at headquarters – they have a few weeks before Q is to be officially inducted into the Unspeakables and his record hence sealed out of reach of even the most stubborn Indeterminate, but until then, _Quattuor_ likes interfering more than she'll ever admit, and _Decem_ is very, very good at forging handwriting and magical signatures.

After all, it's about time Q finally realizes what supporting the Indeterminates – and more importantly, gaining their trust and respect – means: that respect returned twice fold, wands ever raised in his defence, and a lifetime of protective meddling. The Magistratus takes the attention with professional aplomb, Tanner with quiet surprise and steadfast acceptance, Eve with fierce reciprocation.  

Q, James already knows, will be a combination of all three, together with a reckless possessiveness more akin to the Indeterminates.

Small wonder, then, that Q fits in so well with the Unspeakables.)

\---

The flickering firelight from two dozen lit candles tinges the room gold in an illusion of warmth, and gleams off the curve of Q’s small smile. “But you’ve known that since you first brought me within the Unspeakables’s fold. What brings you here today?”

James tucks the lighter back inside his pocket, flicks out his wand with practiced ease.

"The first time we met, you told me you wanted to learn how to cast the Patronus charm."

It's strange how James can tell, but for a moment, Q stops breathing.

"The first time we met, you broke into my flat in Muggle London and discovered all my surveillance magic," Q says, the riposte almost instinctive by now. And then, because he's always been able to read between the lines, "so it's official, then? The Magistratus agreed?"

James lets the smirk pull up one side of his mouth. "If the Magistratus had his way, you'd be recruited as an Unspeakable the moment you came through the headquarter portals. But yes. You'll be reporting to the Magistratus directly, little to no change in your current field of work – Tanner has the details – and Eve has the bones of an Unspeakable-sanctioned cover for you, unless you'd rather create your own." He gives Q an arched look. "It was only a matter of time, Q. And most of the formalities have been observed. The only thing that's left is—”

"Casting a corporeal Patronus," Q finishes, his face lighting up with remembered wonder, so similar to the first time he'd seen James summon his Patronus. "One of the ironclad requirements of becoming an Unspeakable. It's strange – I've been working on so many spell systems and sequences that I'd almost forgotten."

His voice goes quiet on the last note, a subtle shift in mood that James nevertheless catches right away. Q's smile doesn't fade, but his eyes have gone shadowed behind his glasses, and he's stroking his thumb against the grain of his wand, restless.

Curious.

"Have you encountered a Dementor before?"

Q pauses long enough that the silence is an answer of its own. "Yes," he says a moment later. "During my third year, when Sirius Black escaped Azkaban. They posted Dementor guards on the Hogwarts Express and the school grounds."

James remembers that year well. In hindsight, it was the beginning of the slow grind of machinations that led to the Second Wizarding War, even if the majority of wizarding Britain continued life in blissful ignorance for another two years. James's first Magistratus - the stalwart, unbending force that ruled the Unspeakables with sheer steel in her spine - had protested releasing the Dementors from the warded Azkaban walls, but the Aurors overruled her, claiming jurisdiction. She'd gathered the Indeterminates afterwards, her eyes grim, before assigning each of them to the corners of Britain, wizarding and Muggle both. 

 _The signs are there_ , she said, and they all straightened, from the newly designated _Quattuor_ to _Novem_ , who eventually passed the dubious honour of being the most senior Indeterminate to James when he was killed five months after the War officially began. _I've been called every synonym of paranoid, but we work in the shadows; we know what else lurks in the dark with us. Keep your eyes and ears open and your wands in hand, and for goodness sake,_ _don't_ _get killed before you get intelligence back to headquarters. Dismissed!_

Before they disbanded to pursue their individual assignments, _Decem_ had murmured that at least they weren't responsible for controlling the Dementors. All Unspeakables are able to summon a Patronus, of course, but the spell didn't make encounters with Dementors any more pleasant.

Especially not for the Indeterminates.

"No sightings during the War?" James asks instead.

Q shoots him a wry look. "No. We kept well away from famous landmarks and known Wizarding gathering points."

He hasn't stopped the careful movement of his fingers on his wand, but neither has the unconscious fidgeting become any worse. James turns to a different observation.

"I'm surprised you never tried the Patronus charm on your own. I heard Potter learned to cast it, and taught it to a number of Hogwart students.”

Q’s eyes flick up, one side of his mouth going up in a grim smile. “Apparently he did. You shouldn’t be surprised to hear that Slytherins, regardless of whether they were Muggle-born, half-blooded or of wizarding stock, were not invited. Neither were my friends from the other houses; it’s why they left with me to Muggle London.” He flicks his wand, his restlessness becoming more evident. “I’ve studied the spell however. I know the incantation and the wand movements. And the use of a happy memory as a focus.”

James would be very surprised if he hadn’t; a spellweaver doesn’t become a master of his craft through sheer talent alone.

“And yet,” James says, watching Q carefully, “You haven’t tried casting it yourself.”

Q goes very, very still, the motionlessness of a prey animal that is on the brink of being caught.

James feels a spark slide down his spine. Ravenclaws thirst for knowledge simply for the sake of it; Slytherins solve problems as a means to an end. Q is brilliant in the painful kind of way, where the things in his head are double-edged swords that can just as easily cut its creator as the people they are harnessed against, and he's shrewd enough to recognize the stakes.

Q only speaks his mind when he's comfortable and trusts the people he's around, and he always, always responds to James. For him to go silent now—

"The charm is a benevolent one,” James says. “There is no backlash if you get it wrong."

Q looks at him for long moments, the curve of his cheekbones lit by candlelight, his eyes shrouded behind his glasses.

"That's not true," he says. "There are plenty of records of Dark wizards who have attempted the Charm and were devoured by maggots that emerged instead of a Patronus. It's why it's a requirement, isn't it? To become an Unspeakable, you must be able to cast a corporeal Patronus. It's the perfect anti-Dark Arts test."

Q’s eyes drop to his wand, and there's the sharp edge of too-raw honesty in his voice when he murmurs, "Perhaps I was too afraid to try."

There’s no pause or hesitation when James responds. "You are not a dark wizard."

"I know what books I was reading when I integrated a blood spell into my defensive spell system."

"No, Q,” James says, and it’s his mid-mission voice, mild, calm, and utterly unignorable. Q’s eyes jerk up to meet his in surprise. “I've fought dark wizards. You are not one of them."

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’ve killed and maimed and tortured in my line of duty, and my Patronus comes to my call with the same ease now as it did when I first joined the Unspeakables.” James draws slow circles with his wand, the movement of the Patronus Charm without the power behind it. “The Unspeakables is hardly the paragon of morality or virtue. We’re as morally ambiguous as it gets without crossing completely over the line, and whatever you’ve done so far, I doubt you’ve able to match the tally of someone who has been in active service for a decade and a half. And intentions matter. You are not a dark wizard.”

“I’m pretty sure some of those Death Eaters you took down during the war believed their intentions were righteous, but that doesn’t change the fact that they were dark through and through.” Q shoots James a low-lidded look, but although his eyes are still shadowed there’s a spark of stubbornness in them now. He draws in a deep breath, and straightens. “But if I don’t try, I’ll never know. I’m committed to the Unspeakables now. I’d like to meet my Patronus, if it exists and deigns to coalesce for me. I want to know.”

\---

("I'd be more wary of the weaver than the smith," _Quattuor_ says two weeks later, as if their conversation never ended and James hadn't spent the days after stalking a particularly dangerous mark: a Death Eater sympathizer who walks the streets of Muggle London like she'd never left, who slipped into the Parliament building with an ID card that actually belongs to her, pure Muggle technology without a hint of a spell attached to it.

James meets _Quattuor’s_ gaze, but doesn't voice a reply. The other Indeterminate keeps her silence more often than not, but when she does speak, it's often with an airy lightness that makes her words weigh more. James won't risk interrupting her.

They both gaze through the window for long moments. It's a rather Muggle-like setup, reminiscent of an interrogation room at a police station: a sealed room, a single entrance with bright lights that chase shadows from existence, a simple table and the reflective glass that covers one entire wall, hiding the observation room that _Quattuor_ and James are standing in from view.

Unlike the Muggle version of the room, however, Q isn't a captive within. Rather, he'd shut _everyone else_ out, and if necessary James could pick the lock, but then he might get electrocuted by the complex metal mesh and the rather deadly electrical current running through it, creating a Faraday cage strong enough to effectively negate the influence of magic, protecting Q's equipment.

Located as they are in the heart of Muggle London, in the fringes of the Unspeakables's territory, James is sure Q doesn't need to run quite so high a current through the Faraday cage, but then again, Q is very protective of his creations, both technological and magical.

"A smith builds spells, creates and modifies them according to the laws of spell theory,” _Quattuor_ says. “The spells a spellsmith forges are bent to their creator's will. The quality of a spellsmith's work is judged by the spell's stability, and because they are stable, the spells are potent."

Neither of them has to mention that Q’s creations, from the enchantments he casts onto the Indeterminate’s battle gear to the complex magical tracking system he’d set up back in headquarters, are incredibly durable.

“The weaver, on the other hand, unites components without destroying them. They transform materials into something greater, where the sum of the whole is greater than its parts. Spellweaver spells have their own intentions; a powerful witch or wizard could force them to bend, but at great cost."

They both glance through the window at Q. The Indeterminates’s equipment and weapons – other than their wands – are maintained almost exclusively by Q now, and the last time an enemy picked up _Quattuor_ ’s enchanted dagger and tried to stab her with it, the dagger had shattered into a flurry of sharp-edged pieces, each tiny shard slicing through robes and skin with ease.

None of _Quattuor_ ’s other attackers dared to use her equipment against her, after that.

James gives _Quattuor_ a small smirk, although there isn’t a single trace of irony in his voice when he speaks. " Quite aptly put. Thank you for that bit of wordcraft." 

 _Quattuor_ smiles back, teeth neatly hidden behind the rose of her lips. There's the softest whisper of magic, a spell cast at close proximity, and _Quattuor_ 's hair goes fiery red, her entire demeanour turning boisterous and cheerful like the parliamentary assistant their Death Eater target interacts most often with. They have Metamorphi in the Unspeakables ranks, and Polyjuice Potion, together with Veritaserum, is one of the staples of the apothecary, but _Quattuor_ 's disguises are based purely on her precise spellcasting and the fluidity of her personality.

"Sounds like you’ve got your own little nickname for our Q," _Quattuor_ says, her voice dropped contralto low. She grins at James, flicking her long mane over her shoulder, her posture one of controlled eagerness. "Sharing is caring, you know?"

James tucks one curl of red hair behind _Quattuor_ 's ear, fingers just grazing the earpiece masquerading as an earcuff. He flicks the device on, and inside the room, Q glances at his phone before he raises his head towards the reflective glass wall. The computer screens beside him show numerous footages of both the target and the assistant _Quattuor_ is impersonating, a long term assignment to infiltrate the Muggle parliament and determine just how far the Death Eater remnant's tendrils have stretched. It will be a test of Q's latest surveillance system, a complex system consisting of Muggle technology and numerous spell sequences, delicately arrayed to avoid both magical and technological detection.

Q draws his wand – of course he'd devise a spell that wouldn't adversely affect his own equipment – and murmurs a long incantation within the privacy of the room. The bolt of magic strikes the glass wall and bursts outwards, designs etching themselves into the glass until the entire window bears a blueprint of the parliamentary building. _Quattuor_ laughs, delighted, quite unlike herself but rather like the young, bubbly assistant, and Q smiles, hearing her voice through his phone.

James flicks on his own earpiece in time to hear Q say, "I'm not sure I want to know what the two of you are doing over there, but I know how much trouble two idle Indeterminates can get into. I'll need a few more hours, so go ahead and plan your entry and exit routes and contingencies. _Septem_ , if you use _concreto lumine_ , the spell system should be able to record your plans and integrate them into the software."

"So we're _Quattuor_ and _Septem_ today, are we?" _Quattuor_ says.

"You are if you're already taking on the persona," Q says easily, and disconnects the line with an audible click.

 _Quattuor_ just smiles. " _Concreto lumine?_ "

"Adapted transcription spell modifying the _lumos_ charm," James says. "It uses the movement or the trace of magical light to record information. Based off the principle of a tablet pen, apparently."

"Of course it is." She tilts her head and looks up at James through her eyelashes. "You haven’t answered my question."

James considers ignoring her, but there’s a reason why _Quattuor_ ’s Patronus is a shrike; she is much deadlier than she appears. He turns to look _Quattuor_ more fully in the eyes. "He’s an innovator."

It’s not quite right, just like _spellsmith_ is accurate but not completely, but it’s enough for _Quattuor_. 

 _Quattuor_ 's smile gains a catlike curve to it and her eyes are entirely herself when she nods. "That he certainly is," she says, and when she raises her head she's a completely different person again, flipping back to the bubbly personality with a fluidity that would be alarming if she hadn't allowed James to witness the change dozens of times before. "Now. Show me the spell."

James draws his wand, and casts.)

\---

James doesn’t bother asking Q if he’s ready now; Q snatches opportunities like a bird of prey on the wing, and the surge of conviction currently lighting up his eyes can go a long way to overcoming any lingering doubts still lurking in the depths of his heart.

He slips his wand away and takes a moment to consider his words. Indeterminates are usually terrible teachers; there are too many demands on their time and skills for them to care about gently guiding, and they are too volatile and too powerful to easily break down for a novice what comes to them as naturally as breathing. But there’s a reason why Indeterminates can cast Patronus charms instinctively, with barely a thought, and any hints of knowledge James can give Q will only boost his confidence further.

“You already know the basics of the spell,” James says, “You’re a skilled caster. I’m quite sure if you stood here now and cast the spell that you would at least summon an incorporeal shield. And if I were anyone else, I would have you practice until you find the best trigger memory to summon your Patronus.”

“A happy memory,” Q says. “I imagine it would be quite difficult to summon a Patronus in the presence of an actual Dementor.”

“To ward off a Dementor, who feeds on happiness and joy and causes humans to drown in sorrow and sadness, you need to use a happy memory.” James tilts his head. “I’ve seen several casters buckle under the weight of their own emotions during battle, when they try to cast the charm and can’t focus on the trigger memory.”

“A paradox.” Q says quietly, but there’s a frustrated hum behind the statement, the constant hunt for better, faster, more efficient ways of doing things, of never accepting the status quo simply because it’s what worked _so far_.

“Except it’s not. It doesn’t necessarily have to be a happy memory that you need to hold onto. Happy memories and positive feelings are simply the easiest way to get the necessary energy and motivation to cast the spell."

A furrow appears between Q’s eyes; he watches James intently, his hand poised and very still on his wand. “If happiness doesn’t power the spell—”

"Happy memories give you a reason to hold on,” James says. “You cast the spell to secure your future, so you can have more opportunities to experience joy."

Q's eyelashes dip low. He's never quite lost the wariness, a shadow constantly lurking at the back of his eyes the way deep waters turn dark and deceptively quiet, but together with that shadow is the weight of experience, of fighting desperately and surviving to make it to the other side of the dark night.

"Hope," he says, voice soft but full of unspoken feeling.

“Yes. Hope is even more intangible than happiness, and the Patronus charm is notoriously difficult as it is, which is why all the texts focus on happy memories. But if you can capture that feeling of hope and keep it burning—” James taps his chest “—then it will sustain you even through the most terrible of tragedies. No Dementor can ever take that from you, and you will never be without your Patronus.”

Q’s eyes draw close, and he goes still, although his eyes flicker under his eyelids, absorbing that new fact and integrating it into the immense encyclopaedia of spell theory he must keep in his brilliant head. James doesn’t doubt that he’s also hunting for that feeling of hope, searching for the best memory or trigger to harness it; no one else can help him with that, and James steps away, going to stand between two candleholders.

When Q finally opens his eyes, however, they are not filled with triumph or steely determination. He turns to stare at James, an uncertain look on his face.

“James,” Q says, and James quickly revises that assessment. Not uncertainty, but dread. “How did you discover that hope—” Q cuts himself off.

James smiles, but it’s a gallows humour smile. There are some secrets he is not at liberty to share, not even to another Unspeakable, but even if James could, he wouldn’t. There really is no need for anyone else to know that to become an Indeterminate, an Unspeakable agent must survive twenty-four hours in the presence of a Dementor, with no protective barriers in place. 

“Don’t worry about it,” James says, and a flash of stubbornness flares through Q’s eyes, although he remains silent. After a moment, he nods, and steps forward.

“I hope to hell this works,” Q murmurs under his breath, and raises his wand.

He doesn’t cast the spell right away. Instead, Q draws slow circles with the tip of his wand, and James feels the moment the room tunes towards Q’s magic, the way the air becomes heavy on his skin, like the calm before a storm. Firelight no longer flickers throughout the room; the flames above the candles blaze instead in sustained columns. Q’s eyes are narrowed in concentration, and then his wand hand flicks, drawing a lightning quick circle, his voice quiet but ringing with clarity when he casts, “ _Expecto patronum.”_

The Patronus bursts from Q’s wand with battle swiftness, coalescing so quickly that at first James has no idea what form it takes. The candles flicker out all at once before sputtering back to life, dancing flames once more, and Q’s Patronus weaves around them, trailing silvery wisps amongst molten fire, wings spread, barely flapping to keep aloft.

The owl circles Q, a silent, vigilant sentinel. Their smoky, silvery forms can make it difficult to identify specific species of a Patronus, but James recognizes the shape of the owl's head and the distinct dark mottled feathers against the otherwise pale wings.

Q's eyes are fixed on the snowy owl Patronus, his mouth opened in a silent gasp of awe. James lets him have the moment. Q might be one of the rare ones who will never lose the wonderment at summoning their Patronus, but in most circumstances he wouldn't have the time to enjoy the sight, not if he's casting the spell for its primary purpose: to ward off dark creatures.

As the owl makes another circuit around the room, Q stretches his arm out like a falconer, his hand fisted and steady. The owl dips and then flares its wings, talons sweeping forward to clench at Q's fingers, silver tendrils wreathing around Q's hand as the owl comes to a halt, wings folding neatly against its back. 

James catches a flash of cat-slit eyes as the Patronus turns its stare on him. They lock gazes for a long moment, and then the owl turns away to survey its surroundings. When it looks back on Q, the owl's eyes are normal again, round and unblinking.

"James," Q says, and James flicks a glance at him automatically. "Is something wrong?"

Q's face is still soft with wonder, although his gaze is sharp and focused on James. They match each other well, the snowy owl Patronus and its caster, both with a silent hunting instinct and eyes that see all, but James can just as easily imagine a silvery cat Patronus curling around Q's ankle, quick and intelligent and adept at observing from the shadows.

It takes a significant emotional and psychological shock to effect a transformation of a Patronus's form. James wonders what event marked the transition for Q - was it the night his Slytherin friends faked his death, when Q left Hogwarts and Wizarding Britain with no intention of ever returning, or the first time he looked into his prototype magical map and saw the glowing signs of life winking out, witches and wizards killed by Death Eaters while Q stood helplessly by?

Or perhaps it was even the day James broke into Q's spellroom in Muggle London, and Q swallowed his fear to offer his expertise in service to the Unspeakables.

It doesn't really matter.

“I did say that you are not a dark wizard.”

Q throws James an exasperated look, but it doesn’t stay for long; the smile catches Q’s mouth after a moment, and it makes him look – not innocent, certainly not, but lighter. He studies his Patronus, tangible enough to roost at his hand like a real bird, and lifts his free hand to stroke gently at its head, silvery wisps clinging to his fingers.

James shouldn’t be surprised at all when Q says, “I wonder if it’s possible to imbue the properties of a Patronus charm in armour of some sort, to give you Indeterminates some protection in battle without needing you to cast the charm immediately.”

 _Spellweaver_ is apt, _innovator_ is certainly true, but it’s becoming increasingly clear that what Q truly is is a _revolutionist_. It’s really quite possible that he would shatter the laws of magical theory and the limits of Muggle physics to bring his Indeterminates back safely.

James flicks out his wand and casts with barely a thought; Q doesn’t pay him any attention, but the Patronus owl turns, feathers ruffling in anticipation of flight when James’s fox coalesces at his feet.

“Let the Magistratus know Q has passed the final requirement,” James tells the fox instead of focusing on the exact message he wants the Patronus to convey; his Patronus snaps its jaws open in a silent yawn, and pads to its feet, detouring once to brush its tail against Q’s ankles before disappearing through the walls. James puts away his wand, and grins at Q. “Welcome to the Unspeakables, spellweaver.”

Q stares at James. “What, just like that?” 

The Unspeakables, as an organization, may have wanted to officially recruit Q for months now, but it’s clear that Q has long claimed the Indeterminates, and that’s really all that matters.

“Yes,” James says, satisfaction curling around the surprisingly optimistic hope that the world – Wizarding and Muggle both – has somehow yet to stamp out. “After all, in spirit, you’ve always been one of us.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- Somewhere in the mess that is my notes/scribbles for this universe is a snippet that explains why Q is still named Q in this verse. Long story short, one of Q's clauses when he starts consulting for the Unspeakables is that he remains anonymous; the Magistratus has Q's records from Hogwarts, but otherwise have allowed Q's real identity to remain officially dead in the wizarding world. Q sticks with the moniker "Q" within the Unspeakables since that's what James first uses when they met in Sic Parvis Magna; to his other friends, Q goes by Koppa. 
> 
> \- In my head: Aurors = MI5; Unspeakables = MI6; Indeterminates = Double-Os. 
> 
> \- _Quattuor_ is four in Latin; she's the equivalent of 004/Scarlet from my other fics. _Septem_ is, of course, Latin for seven. 
> 
> \- _Quattuor_ 's Patronus, the shrike, is a deceptively mild looking bird that is known for impaling their prey - insects and small vertebrates - on any sharp point, allowing the birds to easily tear the flesh into manageable chunks, and keep any remnants for later. Like raptors, shrikes have a hooked beak. 
> 
> \- Indeterminates are the only personnel allowed to cast the Killing Curse with impunity. The initiation to become an Indeterminate requires candidates to survive twenty-four hours in the presence of a Dementor, with no other barriers in place (so, not like the guards or immates at Azkaban who are protected from the Dementors). There are two reasons: one, this proves the candidate has enough magical strength and willpower to sustain a Patronus and stay in that happiness-killing presence without going out of their minds; two, it ensures candidates truly understand the responsibility and pressure of having that "license to kill." Killing does terrible things to the soul, and being able to cast a Patronus continues to prove that there's enough humanity and light left in the Indeterminate. 
> 
> \- _sapere aude_ : dare to know.


End file.
